A Big Decision (55 Foot Long)

The following article appeared in the February 2004 edition of our Church Magazine.

When we bought our boat, Louisa May, the inside accommodation was unique to say the least. Chris had chosen her for her shape - a 45 foot chunky tug style with sweeping lines, built at Norton Canes, North of Birmingham, and her engine - a 20 HP 4 cylinder diesel that had spent 5 years in a fishing boat in Nova Scotia before being refurbished and put in its own engine room on the narrowboat. It was the equivalent of purchasing a Jaguar XJS with orange boxes for seats! We removed the fridge from the bathroom, and put it in the galley. This gave Chris no reason for lingering over a handy cold beer in situ! In its place went a custom-made bath (a glorified plastic tank!) The main saloon had a flap table affixed to the wall, and a bed settee, which was very uncomfortable to sit on. To open the bed settee at night, it had to be turned round and the whole cabin had to be cleared. We decided to sacrifice the flexibility for a dinette, which would give us two bench seats, and a table seating 6 easily (8 at a push) instead of the 3 who could squeeze round the wall mounted one. At night this would become a double bed, and we would have ample storage under the seats for clothes and bedding. This arrangement worked well for several years, and we have added minor refinements; a cratch over the front deck gives us a porch, ideal for dirty boots, ash cans or hanging out washing. We had a smart paint job; declaring that the owners are C.J. & K.R. Brown & Sons, Canal Towage. (True, since we pulled someone off some mud!) The fridge gave up one Easter, so we bought the latest model, and the tiny two ring, one shelf (guess the temperature because the controls don't tell you) oven was replaced by a smart bottle green 4 burner, electric ignition hob and oven. The only thing left, was how nice it would be at the end of a tiring day to get straight into bed without having to make the bed up first, and what about some extra room for guests? The solution was an extra bedroom that is solely a bedroom, and meant for us buying a bigger boat. But we liked Louisa May; we had worked hard to get everything else as we wanted it, and like buying and selling a house, there are extra costs that add up. So we thought about having her lengthened, by about ten feet. This involves slicing the boat in half, using a grinder, and welding in a section of new metal. Where we moor is a boat yard, and we had seen boats being built, repaired and lengthened, so in August 2002, we plucked up courage to see how much it would cost. The cost was reasonable, and anyway, as there was a waiting list, we had until April 2004 to top up our savings. We started thinking and planning what we wanted to include. Although we had a small bath, we had never had a washbasin, minor ablutions being performed at the kitchen sink. On a trip to France in October 2002, we purchased a vanitory basin and a very swish tap for remarkably few Euros, and stored them in our loft. Clothes are usually left in the bags we transport them in, and smarter wear (for jaunts such as the theatre in Stratford) is hung over the warm engine in the vain hope that some of the worst creases will drop out, so a wardrobe would be quite useful. If we managed to enlarge the engine room we could possibly fit in a heating boiler. Then out of the blue, Roger, the boat builder, phoned us up in early July 2003 and asked when we were going out in the boat over the summer, as he thought he could fit in our lengthening job in September. On our return from our summer holiday, to the limit of navigation of the Thames at Lechlade, we started to clear the inside of the boat. The cut was going to be made between the engine room and the galley. Any further back and it would interfere with the engine and prop shaft. The area chosen, however, included the galley bulkhead and the kitchen sink. The day we had to strip this part of the interior, Chris developed a bad back. After I had barrowed 3 loads of wood, tiles, insulation, and finally the kitchen sink to the skip, I was not feeling much better than he was. And we both felt as though we were handing over a dear relative to the surgeon's knife for a condition that was not life threatening, although long-term quality of life should be improved!

Kate Brown.

Extreme Boat Fitting A new sport - for the enthusiast (or the insane!)

The following article appeared in the July 2004 edition of our Church Magazine.

We had left our boat, Louisa May, ready to be cut in half, and spent the next week wondering if the deed had been done. We received a phone call from Roger, the boat builder, saying could he see us at the weekend. We arrived at the boatyard to find Louisa May in the shed, with about a foot gap between her two parts (a bit disappointing really) Roger wanted to finalise the design of the diesel tank Chris had asked him to build in, under what would be the bed. (If you think that sounds eccentric, the rest of the under bed space is earmarked for the batteries!) We took one of the brass portholes that had been removed, as a pattern for the four new ones we would need. We already had two different profiles of porthole, (not that I'd noticed) and we didn't want a third! The next week, the new base plate and hull sides were welded into place, and only a week or two after, Roger called to say 'could we black the original part of the hull?' as Louisa May would be ready to go back into the water during the week after. That Saturday, Chris, James & myself put on our overalls, or oldest clothes, and prepared to do battle with a selection of paintbrushes and rollers and ten litres of black bitumen paint. There is no way you can be artistic with stuff the consistency of treacle, but at least you can see what you have done. On Sunday, after church, Chris went back to put a second coat on, with the help of our eldest son, Simon. Louisa May was duly returned to the water, and ready for the start of fitting out. During the next couple of weeks the floor bearers were fitted, and ballast laid between them. Chris got the heaviest, cheapest paving slabs for this, and again enlisted Simon's help. Conveniently situated next to the moorings and boatyard are a boat fitters, Wharf House Narrowboats, and chandlery. Chris had ordered the paving slabs through them, and each week would ask them to order the wood he required for the next week. This initial work took place during the autumn, and conditions weren't too bad until the weather broke. The new portholes were covered with taped down plastic, but finding the rain had got in several times, Chris sealed them with silicone mastic, even down to the boltholes. The new brass portholes were being cast at Saul, near Gloucester, and it became a matter of urgency to get them fitted, before the cabin could be lined. As the new part of the shell was not insulated, condensation (melted ice?) dripped onto the floor, but wooden battens had to be fixed to metal lugs on the hull and roof to hold the lining boards in place. With no electricity but an extension lead, and no gas or water we evolved a sort of 'camping out inside' procedure, where we took a flask of hot water and a picnic, from home, filled the water can from the stand pipe, for flushing the loo, lit the stove for warmth, and boiled the kettle on it for hand washing and thermos top ups. It was early February when we fitted the hull side fibreglass insulation slabs. The upper part of the cabin sides were insulated with polystyrene foam blocks, and it was quite satisfying squeezing off cuts into the nooks and crannies round the portholes and between the battens until there were no gaps. Electric cable was run through conduits, so the wires did not touch the polystyrene. Chris had some holiday to use up, so he booked a succession of days when I was not at work, and we'd take James to school and set off for the day. By now we were fitting the boards to the hull sides. We would use the workshop, for cutting, if there was not too much going on, but we did not want to intrude when they were busy, and then would use a pallet outside on the ground. The professionals were very generous with their advice, and explained how to hold the roof paneling in place while we were fixing it. The worst thing we had to do was to get the pieces of board onto the boat. The back doors (as the boat is moored stern to the pontoon) are about 3 foot 6 by 18 inches, so impossible to get an 8 x 4 sheet of board in that way. The solution was for the two of us to carry it along the outside of the boat, walking along the 4inch gunwales, and in the front doors, which were now nearly 55 feet away! Hanging on to a sheet of board that is heavy, unwieldy and expensive, and having to walk and step over ropes, synchronized with someone else, whilst having no spare hands to grab a handhold, and knowing there is water just beneath your feet really focuses the mind. I think I felt worse each time, not better. Just as admitting you have an alcohol or drugs problem is the first step towards beating it, Chris realised there was no way Louisa May would be habitable for use at Easter, and suggested I look for an alternative holiday for us. Thoughts of Mediterranean beaches were hastily shelved for a more modest several nights in France, leaving a couple of days for work on the boat. I came to think of our efforts with sheets of paneling as a form of rigid dressmaking. We constructed templates for the bulkheads, drew round them, and cut them out. The results were instant. As a sheet was eased into place, a wall suddenly appeared where shortly before there had been a space. Soon, the kitchen worktop, and new sink were fitted, and the gap between the bedroom wall and the kitchen became the en suite washbasin and end of bed cupboard. The piece of worktop cut out for the sink top just fitted as the washbasin worktop - waste not want not. We purchased tiles for the kitchen, and left overs were used round the washbasin. We had an agonising moment, with bucket at the ready, the first time we poured water down the sink, but the joints were secure, (well almost - we have had a subsequent drip!) As our target maiden voyage date approached, Chris spent one Saturday terminating the wires, until his fingers were sore. He also started the engine, for the first time in seven months, impossible during the winter, as the batteries had been at home. Sunday saw a clean-up operation and the finish of the wiring, then with all the tension of a Regent Street Christmas illumination switch-on we had lights. In fact, the bank of down lighters over the bed has proved a bit too bright, and we have sourced lower wattage bulbs! 'Sea Trials' took place as planned during half-term week. There is still a lot of finishing off to do (cupboard doors, varnishing, flooring, tidying up the woodwork) so I didn't unpack more crockery than we needed, or take unnecessary soft furnishings. The main fault that needs rectifying is we need more ballast - filling up the new diesel tank with £50 of diesel (at 30p per litre) didn't cure it. In reverse the propeller glugs as it meets air, and can't pull on the water, as I found to my cost, when meeting another boat at a bridge hole. I hope the ducks soon recovered from me crashing into their bush! I suppose I will get used to not having to put the bedding away during the day, but then that was the whole object of the exercise - less housework, more boating.

Kate Brown.